


When Our Brothers In Arms Are Gone

by pourlevenin



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: But the relationship is an element, I'm bad at this whole tags thing, M/M, Mostly Gen, Nonbinary Mikey Way, Some Fluff, Trans Mikey Way, petekey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 23:52:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6399259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pourlevenin/pseuds/pourlevenin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey isn't sure he likes himself as much as he ought to. In fact, he isn't even sure he's a "he" at all. Actually, he's completely sure. And "they" just fits so much better. The uncertainty lies in what they tell Pete about their identity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Our Brothers In Arms Are Gone

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on AO3 (yay!). Incidentally, it's also my first Petekey fic. It's not like super relationship-centered, but it is an important element. Mainly it focuses on Mikey's process of accepting their identity.

Mikey dropped into his favorite armchair in his and Pete's apartment, staring at the blank TV for a moment before moving again. Or at least, he had planned on it only being a moment. It could have been several minutes. In fact, the probability of more time passing than intended grew greatly as Mikey found himself worrying at the hem of his shirt, gazing vacantly ahead as banal thoughts relating to the passage of time tried to speak up over the clamor of the rest of his consciousness.

He fought a losing battle, though; no matter how loudly he tried to think about how long he had been sitting, and no matter how much pressure he used as he pulled on the threads poking out of his shirt's hem, the other thoughts—the ones he had tried for so long to just forget about already—wound their way into the front of his mind. Giving up on his attempts at repression, Mikey groaned and slid down further in the chair.

A photo of him and Pete smiled up at him from across the room. Mikey wasn't quite sure what he thought of it. On the one hand, they were both happy. Pete had his arm slung around Mikey's waist, their shoulders pressed close despite the summer heat, and Mikey's head tilted to rest against Pete's black hair, his own sticking to his forehead under his glasses. On the other hand, Mikey wasn't the person that smiled in the frame anymore. He wasn't the boy Pete had fallen for, and he felt horrible about it, as if he were cheating Pete of a great chance. He deserved better than Mikey.

It wasn't that Mikey was missing something about their past relationship; he and Pete were perfectly happy. Together, at least. Maybe not separately. Or, well, Pete might be, but Mikey wasn't. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to muster up the smile the picture version of him sported. As he slouched in the armchair, his face seemingly unfeeling, his mind reeled. Deep down, he felt a lot in regards to his and Pete's relationship. He felt so many things it was a wonder he didn't burst when Pete wasn't around to share his feelings with. But as Mikey looked at their photo, at his broad shoulders hunched into the frame, how, even with a decidedly feminine haircut, his face was irredeemably male, and how his hand, wrapped over Pete's shoulder, was far from delicate, any emotions he had were deadened by a wall in his head.

It hadn't been there a few months ago, but as his subconscious realized things that it didn't like to share with Mikey's conscious mind, it placed these facts directly in the way of where the synapses that regulated normal thought and behavior connected, leaving Mikey a fairly lifeless shell of his former self. He half expected some kind of authority figure in his mind to decide that enough was enough and say, "tear down this wall!", and then Mikey would be back to normal and he could forget anything had ever happened. The other half of him knew that forgetting was impossible. Even if his subconscious was jealous and liked to keep its findings to itself, Mikey thought he had a fair grasp on just what it had discovered, and he wasn't apt to just push them aside.

And so, looking at the photo of him and Pete, where they both looked completely and utterly male, Mikey decided to face what he already knew. Forcing himself to drop the frayed hem of his t-shirt, he stood up shakily and paced around the living room for a moment before walking to the extra bedroom they used for music, sitting down on an amp and grabbing his bass. 

He didn't want to think about this in his and Pete's bedroom. Not where he had so many good memories. He wanted to keep that one area clean. But he and his bass had been through some shit together. He figured they could handle another crisis. As his hands plucked out a Fall Out Boy bass line at a slow tempo with the volume way down, the purpose helped him stabilize. The panic that had buzzed on the fringes of his mind faded away, and he thought about the wall again now that he felt he could handle it without getting freaked out. 

Of course, he already knew exactly what the problem was. The last time he'd thought about it, though, had been years ago, and he had been forced to prioritize in order to keep a happy presence in My Chemical Romance. Since then, he'd let the thoughts sit on a back burner. For a while, he thought he'd been doing a great job ignoring his problems; he hadn't had to confront them or take responsibility for how he'd acted when they were all he thought about, and in his eyes, that was a victory. A victory hard-won, but still a point in Mikey's favor.

And then the band had broken up, and he was suddenly free to think about other things. And he had thought about countless other things for over a year before his memory slipped in a reminder that he had unresolved issues. And he'd thought of plenty of other things. He had, after all, had Pete to occupy himself with, and even when he started to fall, Pete was always right there to pull him back to reality. But the thoughts kept following him, everywhere he went, every mirror he looked in, every photo he saw of himself, and it had all become too much, as if the world were screaming at him, "this isn't right!" and then he'd shut down.

And nobody had noticed yet. Or not anybody that had bothered to try talking to Mikey about it. As much as he suppressed his emotions, he thought that, if someone were to maybe prompt him to get something off his chest, he wouldn't just refuse outright. He hated dealing with problems alone; he had no idea how to think things through without second-guessing every conclusion he came to. He figured that it was only a matter of time before Pete spoke up; Mikey had caught the looks Pete had been shooting him that past few weeks and knew exactly what they meant, but right now, right here, he needed to work shit out, and closest thing he had to a confidant was Pete's music.

Trying to prolong the arrival of the inevitable, Mikey set his own bass aside and grabbed Pete's, turning the volume up so he could drown out the anxiety. It helped, and Mikey picked out a few melodies as his mind wandered down a once well-trodden path that had become overgrown through disuse.

Of course, he still knew his way around. He remembered each turn and dead end like the back of his hand; the nights spent losing himself didn't leave him without knowledge of which turns lead to answers. It was oddly nostalgic to make his way along lines of thought that he hadn't revisited purposefully for a few years and still find himself at the exact same destination as before. He wasn't sure what he had expected to change; he'd known then, and he knew now. It was just a matter of whether he would accept it this time.

He lay back, the bass weighing comfortingly across his torso like a safety blanket as he mindlessly strummed, hearing Patrick's vocals in his mind as he mulled over his options. In all honesty, he only had one: let his past self go. He had been gone for ages, and Mikey had let him overstay his welcome by several years. Mikey let him fall through his fingers, not feeling much as he trickled into the past for good. He was gone. Mikey was here. And Mikey wasn't him. Mikey was them. Them being Mikey. Mikey not being a boy. And they were content. Or at least, the most content they had been in ages.

They still felt wrong, but at least this time they knew why. Just because they'd accepted to reason everything about them felt wrong didn't mean they stopped feeling wrong altogether. Mikey thumped their head against the amp in frustration. They weren't sure how long they'd been laying there; long enough to play through their favorite Fall Out Boy songs. They let their head flop to the side and adjusted the way they bass sat on top of them, making sure it wasn't cutting of circulation. Mikey let their fingers just play whatever as they thought about what they would say to Pete.

Mikey realized that Pete knew something was up with them; as reserved a Mikey generally was, they never acted like this—like they were giving up—unless something was seriously wrong. If the concerned looks Pete shot them when he thought Mikey wasn't paying attention were anything go on, he would ask after them soon enough. Mikey wasn't sure they wanted to say anything so soon, even if they did know for sure that they weren't a boy.

They were afraid Pete would be disappointed in them; after all, Pete had always known Mikey as male. They were scared that, if they told Pete they weren't what he believed them to be, that he wouldn't love them anymore. That he would feel lied to. Mikey didn't want to lose the best thing in their life. Sitting up, they moved off of the amp and onto the floor; identity crises should at least be halfway comfortable, and they way Mikey's legs were bent was less than ideal.

In their new position, sprawled out on the floor with their head on the blessedly soft carpet, Mikey stopped playing for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. The soft buzz of feedback filled their head, and all they found when thinking of Pete was fear. 

Mikey didn't want to be afraid. To try to drown out their thoughts, they turned up the volume some more and started to play an old My Chemical Romance song, remembering how the guitars would scream in the foreground as Mikey pumped out the bass line behind them. Getting lost in the music, Mikey felt themself start to let go of their fear a little; aggression was cathartic, and My Chem was definitely angry enough to make Mikey release some of his own pent up emotions.

The bass was so loud that Mikey didn't hear the door to the apartment squeak open, or Pete's footsteps thunk across the floor as he walked curiously into the spare room. When the door opened, Pete saw Mikey, laid out on the floor with Pete's bass, playing My Chemical Romance, tears pricking through their closed eyes.

Once they realized Pete had entered the room, Mikey shot up and wiped quickly at their eyes, as if Pete hadn't been standing there long enough to notice that Mikey had maybe been crying a little. They stared at the wall behind Pete's head, afraid to meet his gaze. They didn't want to know what they would find there.  Neither of them said anything for a moment; Pete was probably unsure what to make of the situation, and Mikey was too deep in their own mind to try to find anything to say to Pete. Then Pete took a step forward, and then another and another, and before Mikey could react Pete knelt beside them and wrapped his arms around their frame.

At that, Mikey let themself cry for real, turning their head into Pete's neck and pushing his bass to the side as they leaned into Pete and wrapped their arms tightly around him.

"What's wrong?" Pete asked, petting Mikey's hair. "Mikey, what's wrong, please tell me," Pete cried, holding Mikey securely.

Mikey just shook their head, their body shaking as they sobbed. They wanted to tell Pete everything; they didn't want to be the only one who knew the truth, and yet they were still so scared. Pete was the person who Mikey cared for the most, and if he stopped loving them Mikey didn't know what they would do. Right now, all they did was hold Pete like they never would again.

And Pete let them for a little while. The two sat there for a few minutes until Mikey calmed down enough to get words past their lips, and Pete pulled away slightly to talk.

"Mikey, please talk to me. What's been going on with you lately?" His eyes searched Mikey's, bright and pleading. Mikey dropped their gaze.

"I don't know. It's nothing." They worried at the inside of their cheek and stared at the carpet, ignoring Pete's silent insistence. Mikey knew that Pete knew it wasn't nothing; they just didn't know how to say what was really bothering them. 

"Mikey..." Pete placed a hand on the side of their face, tilting their head so they were forced to look in his eyes. "Please tell me. Whatever it is, it's going to be okay." Pete ran his thumb along Mikey's cheekbone, leaning his head forward to rest against Mikey's forehead. 

A few more tears slipped down their cheeks and Mikey shook their head. "I—" they broke off. They couldn't bring themself to lie to Pete again. "I just. Ask me later. I don't want to talk about it right now." Their voice shook at the end and they shifted so that they could hide their face in Pete's neck again. Pete let them rest there for a moment before he tugged them up and led them to their bedroom, tucking them in before getting ready and joining them.

\- - -

The next morning, Mikey woke up to find Pete wrapped tightly around them, nose buried in their hair and a leg slung over theirs. They took a moment to relax in Pete's embrace before remembering the events of the night before, and then they started to feel a little anxious; Pete would probably start asking them about their problems again as soon as they'd had coffee, and Mikey really wasn't ready for that.

After all, they had only just decided to embrace their identity. They hardly knew how they felt about all of it; it had happened barely ten hours ago, and Mikey had to come to terms with letting go of their denial before they could tell anyone else. So it wasn't much of a reach to assume that it was a bad idea to discuss things with Pete so soon. Mikey could just drop hints about their gender, and then gauge Pete's attitude, maybe.

But who was Mikey kidding? Even if they did drop hints that Pete responded to, if it turned out that he wasn't accepting, their relationship would be over then anyways. Maybe it would be better to just cut it off before Pete stopped loving them. Suddenly, Mikey felt all of their worries from the night before crash down over their head. They had only taken one step out into reality, and now they had so much more new territory to cover.

On the one hand, it was nice to have topics to think about other than what they'd already thought over countless times before. On the other hand, this was new. Mikey didn't have the security of always ending up at the same conclusions. They'd never been here before, and the future was muddy except for a few possible options, each as unappealing as the next. So far the only option that held any appeal was telling Pete. Which wasn't the ideal situation, as Mikey was used to suffering alone, but they figured it was time for change.

They rolled over, out of Pete's arms, and readjusted to face him. He was sleeping peacefully, his hair adorably messed up with a little dried drool on the corner of his mouth. Looking at him, Mikey remembered falling in love with him for the first time. It was a memory they usually loved to recount, but right now it just felt bittersweet when they knew it could so easily become a sad recollection.

Reaching out for Pete's hand, Mikey watched him for a little while longer until he started to wake up. Pete's eyes fluttered open, squinting against the sunlight falling onto his face. He looked vaguely disoriented for a moment before he pulled the covers up a little higher with his free hand and shifting closer to snuggle with Mikey.

"Morning," he mumbled, tucking his head into Mikey's neck. "Are you doing okay now?" He let go of their hand and reached up to tug at their hair, then wipe the dried tears from Mikey's skin. Mikey had spent a while crying quietly in bed last night, Pete holding on for as long as he could stay awake, Mikey following soon after into a restless slumber.

Mikey tried to smile a little and failed, their lips pressing together into a sad grimace. "Good morning."

Pete's eyes darkened with worry, but he didn't say anything, which Mikey was grateful for. They lay together for a few minutes before Pete got up.

"I'll make some coffee, he yawned. "You stay here, I'll bring you some. Maybe then we can talk." He cast a final glance at Mikey before disappearing out the door.

In Pete's absence, Mikey started to get anxious again, and until he came back with steaming mugs, the worry mounted until it was clear on their face. Pete crawled back under the covers and handed Mikey a cup, allowing them to sip quietly for a moment before he breached the subject.

"So do you want to talk about last night?" Pete placed a hand on Mikey's leg comfortingly. "Whatever it is, it's okay."

Mikey picked at the comforter before speaking. "Not really," they said quietly. "I mean, it's hard. For me to talk about. It's not something I've ever really told anyone before." They glanced at Pete, but he was looking into his coffee.

He nodded slowly. "I know what you mean. But it's bad to just keep it in, you know? I've seen you recently, and it's not... I don't like to see you like this. Watching you beat yourself up without being able to do anything about it... It hurts." He took a sip of coffee and licked his lips. "And I've been there. And it sucks. I know you don't want to talk about it, but it really helps. Trust me."

Mikey set down their coffee and looked at the wall, drawing in a deep breath. "Okay. Okay, I'll tell you. Please just listen." They bit their bottom lip for a moment and then spoke. "This is something I guess I've known for a while, but I just. I didn't like to think about it. And then I forgot about it, but it was still there, and then it came back up again recently—" Mikey broke off, their speech becoming fast and mumbly. They looked up at Pete for reassurance, and when he nodded they continued. "I'm not—I don't think. I'm not a boy," they rushed out. "But I'm also not a girl? I'm just Mikey. And...yeah." They stared into their lap, trying to suppress the panic that was threatening to make them cry all over again. What if Pete didn't get it?

But Pete only leaned over and wrapped Mikey up in his arms. "That's okay. I'm glad you told me. How long have you kept this to yourself?" He pulled back and looked into Mikey's eyes searchingly. "We can get you therapy, to like, work through it healthily."

Mikey smiled shakily. "I've known for years. I just didn't really actually acknowledge it until last night. And therapy would probably help." They leaned in and pulled Pete into a soft kiss. "I was so afraid you wouldn't love me if I told you," they whispered against his lips. 

Pete held Mikey closer. "Never," he breathed into their neck. "I could never stop loving you."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As this is my first time writing Petekey, any comments are appreciated!   
> -Ray


End file.
